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35^3 SONGS OF SEEKING AND FINDING 

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SONGS OF 
SEEKING AND FINDING 



SONGS OF 
SEEKING AND FINDING 



BY 
TERTIUS VAN DYKE 




NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCREBNER'S SONS 

1920 



Copyright, 1911, 1913, 1919, 1920, by Charles Scribner's Sons 
Published March, 19^0 



Copyright, 1916, hy The Press Publishing Company 

Copyright, 1915, by The Evening Post Publishing Company 

Copyright, 1911, 1913, by The Outlook Company 

Copyright, 1913, 1916, by The McCormick Publishing Company 






<PS -6 (520 



THE SCRIBNER PRESS 



CI.A566392 



J- 



s 

^ To 

HENRY VAN DYKE 

Dear Governor, — 

Do you remember a few short years ago when you 
found some unfinished verses that had been left by ac- 
cident on your table at Avalon ? And do you remember 
finishing those verses and sending them back with a 
letter of encouragement to a certain boy in school who 
had left them on your table? 

How did those verses get there ? Well, the boy had an 
idea that by sitting at your table he could complete his 
recalcitrant verses. And he was right ! 

So here are some more verses which also belong to you 
for. reasons of inspiration, gratitude, and comradeship. 
Will you accept their dedication to you with the admira- 
tion and affection of 

Your loving son, 

Tertius. 

Park Avenue Presbyterian Church Manse, 
January 1, 1920. 



CONTENTS 

I. OVERHEARD AMONG THE BIRDS 

PAGE 

The Meadow-Laek 3 

The Crows in Winter 4 

Mid-August 7 

The Arriving Bluebird 8 

The Departing Bluebird 9 

The Humming-Bird 10 

The Crossbill 11 

In a Book of Selections from Richard Jef- 
fries 12 

A May Day Lesson 13 

n. "ADMIRATION, HOPE, AND LOVE" 

To Dorothea 17 

To Dorothea 18 

Two Songs for Katrina Trask 19 

[ vii ] 



PAGE 

The Broken Birch-Tree 21 

The Children's Friend 22 

The Welcome Ship 24 

She Walks Above the Spray-Flecked Cliffs . 27 

A Friend 29 

Romance 31 

As When a Lover of the Forest Stands ... 33 

Love Seeks a Word 34 

Love Is Dead 35 

Song 36 

Blue 37 

ni. SWORDS AND MEN 

By the Sword 41 

The War-Makers 44 

Reprisals . . . 45 

To the President of the United States . , . 46 

In Time of War 47 

Oxford Revisited in War-Time 48 

The Men of Oxford 50 

America Takes Her Place 52 

[ viii ] 



IV. SEEKING AND DARING 

PAGE 

Youth in America 55 

The Poet's Vision 56 

Afterward 58 

SuMiviER Sleep 59 

The Young Singer 60 

The Winding Road 61 

Love of Life 62 

Laughter and Tears 64 

Temptation and the Visionary 66 

The Cross and the Crown 67 

A Minister Learns About Life 68 

Providence 70 

Miracles 71 

The Mystery 74 

The Master of Youth 76 

V. THE LOST ISLAND 

The Lost Island 79 



[ix] 



OVERHEARD AMONG THE BHIDS 



THE MEADOW-LARK 

Long before the fields are green, 
Or the blust'ring winds are still; 
Long before the waiting woodland 
Feels the thrill 

Of the coming of the springtime, 
If you listen you will hear. 
In the open, windy places. 
Sounding bravely, far and near: 
Spring o' the year ! 

Long before the angry clouds 
Cease to gather in the sky; 
Long before the driving rain-storms 
Hasten by; 

In the dreary, sodden meadows, 
All your heart-beats leap with cheer- 
Hark, the meadow-lark is singing 
Songs of gladness, piercing clear: 
Spring o' the year ! 



[3] 



THE CROWS IN WINTER 

When the sun on winter mornings 
Rises in the eastern heavens, 
Upward from the pines and fir-trees 
Mount the crows in countless numbers, 
Flapping, cawing, hoarsely croaking, 
WheeUng, turning, calling loudly, 
FiUing all the woods with clamor. 

Then Kke armies seeking plimder 
OflF they flock in many parties, 
Scattering over field and meadow, 
Flying low in long procession. 
Searching for the food of winter; 
Sometimes calling to each other 
Notes of warning, notes of danger, 
When they see the crafty hunter. 



[4] 



Thus they fly across the country, 
Over hill and field and valley, 
Over wood and barren corn-field. 
Peering ever down below them. 
Till a glimpse of corn or berries. 
Scrap of flesh or bit of plunder 
Greets the eyes of these marauders. 
Then with loud incessant cawing 
Down they drop upon their booty. 
Stalking round with wise demeanor, 
Picking up the scattered morsels. 
Sometimes talking to each other; 
Flying then a Kttle distance 
In their eager search for forage 
Till the field is gleaned of booty 
And in long and dark procession. 
Off they fly to seek new pastures. 

Thus they pass the busy daytime. 
Till the early sun is sinking. 
Warning of approaching darkness; 
Then with loud persistent clamor 
Up they mount till out of gunshot 
And with slow and labored wing-beats 
Flap their way across the landscape. 
Disappearing in the twilight 
As a storm-cloud set in motion 
By the restless winds of winter 
Trails across the darkling heaven 
And is lost on the horizon. 
[5] 



When they reach the dismal pine-wood 
Down they drop upon the branches 
SettUng on their chosen perches, 
With weird cries and frequent croakings, 
Silent then with ruffled plumage 
They await the icy darkness. 



[6] 



MID-AUGUST 

In tangled heaps along the road 
The dying roses lie, 
And o'er the meadows gray with dust 
The breezes loiter by. 

High in the quivering cloudless sky 
The blazing sun burns bright; 
The cattle by the willow-trees 
Are hidden from his sight. 

Along the fences by the road 
The berry-bushes stoop, 
And laden with their dusty load 
Across the roadway droop. 

li". ^ ^ dl/i ^ 

Kind-hearted Summer loath to go 
Still Ungers for a day; 
She hears a sweet insistent call 
And turns her face away. 



7] 



THE ARRIVING BLUEBIRD 

Up from the south in early March 
Although the cold winds blow. 
There comes a cheerful little bird 
Who braves the frost and snow. 

His breast is brown like new-ploughed earth. 
His wings like summer skies, 
And promise of a day to come 
Is shining in his eyes. 

At his approach Old Winter turns 
By secret ways that show 
Where his ice-sandals leave their marks 
In flight to lands of snow. 

Some morning when the sunbeams dance 
Throughout a cloudless sky. 
The maiden Spring in virgin garb 
Comes lightly tripping by, 

And Uke a wisp of azure skies 
Borne on a gentle breeze 
The bluebird sings a way for her 
Amid the budding trees. 



[8] 



THE DEPARTING BLUEBIRD 

Deserted now the meadows lie 
That lately bloomed with summer flowers, 
And, like the southward-winging birds, 
Fly swiftly past the daylight hours. 

Fair Summer, hostess of the fields. 
With loit'ring steps has turned away; 
And Nature stands with tear-dimmed eyes 
To watch her on the lonely way. 

Only the tiny bluebird sings his oft-repeated lay: 
^^ Far-away y far-away, far-away'^ 

So sweetly-sad this tender strain. 
So full of longing for the past, 
That in our hearts a sorrow stirs. 
And in our eyes the tears rise fast. 

Yet if we listen once again 
A diflFerent, sweeter song we hear, 
A song that brings a gleam of joy 
And wipes away the idle tear. 

For now the tiny bluebird sings with simple-hearted 

cheer: 
"The springtime comes again to us, so, never-jearT 



[9] 



THE HUMMING-BIRD 

A bee-like flight, a sudden swerve, 

And then, a-tilt in every nerve. 

On the tiniest twig of the dead pine-tree. 

In gem-incrusted majesty, — 

Beyond the reach of the daintiest word,— 

The fearless, flawless humming-bird! 



[10] 



THE CROSSBILL 

Who does not love this bird with twisted beak 
And rosy plumage? In the sombre north. 
Among the gargoyles of the wilderness, 
He finds a home, and warbles holy songs 
Of praise at matins and at even-song, 
Cathedraled in the spruce-trees' gothic spires. 
On winter days, across the death-white snow, 
A vision of spattered blood, he wings his way. 
And all his days reUgiously reveal 
The memory of an ancient pious deed. 



[11] 



IN A BOOK OF SELECTIONS 
FROM RICHARD JEFFRIES 

In lonely cities built by men 
I trod an endless maze, 
And seldom found a human joy 
To cheer the restless days. 

But here beside this budding wood 
What sudden joys upstart ! 
How Ughtly Nature's touch sets free 
Each impulse of the heart! 

Here is man's rightful heritage 

Far from the city's strain: 

Flowers by a stream, birds in the trees, 

And sunshine after rain. 



April by the Itchin. 



[12] 



A MAY DAY LESSON 

Come forth into the light of things, 
Let Nature be your teacher. 

— ^Wordsworth. 

I wandered through the countryside 
To hear what God was saying 
With heart and mind kept open wide — 
A sort of silent praying; 

And everywhere I went I heard 
Till all my heart was ringing 
In stream and flower, in tree and bird 
A joyful angel singing: 

Awake little servant and sometimes be glad 
Or else you will surely be all the time mad, 
For why of all creatures are you alone sad? 

I stood upon the streamlet's brink — 
A gentle breeze was blowing — 
And laughed to hear the bobolink 
With rapture overflowing; 

The apple-orchards rained their bloom 
In reckless, fragrant measure; 
The quiet path through woodland gloom 
Was fringed with jewelled treasure. 



[13] 



The slim-winged swallows flashed and turned 
Above the daisies swaying, 
Till childhood's heart within me burned 
To join their pretty playing. 

Now every cheerful sight and sound 
Proclaimed the joy of living. 
For radiant sky and fruitful ground 
Rejoiced with great thanksgiving. 

My heart that was so dumb and slow 
From meadow, hill, and river 
Had learned with equal joy to glow 
And praise the Royal Giver. 

Awake little servant and sometimes be glad 
Or else you will surely be all the time mad, 
For why of all creatures are you alone sad? 



[ 14 



n 

ADMIRATION, HOPE, AND LOVE" 



TO DOROTHEA 

Dear sister on this happy day 
This is the dream that I dream for you, 
And this is the dream of each woman true 
To her God-given self in hfe's brief way: 

To make a glory of mortal Ufe 
By the love of beauty and gentle deeds; 
To cherish the life that the spirit needs, 
And find out peace in the midst of strife. 

To lift dull eyes from the busy mart 
Up to the hills and the clear, clean sky. 
Till we turn from our groundless certainty 
And doubt our reason, yet trust the heart. 

December 18, 1908. 



[17] 



TO DOROTHEA 

Her voice was like the melody 

Of some old-fashioned tune; 

Her eyes were bright with tender stars 

Like sister nights of June. 

Calmly as moonlight by the sea 
Her smile dispelled the night; 
Her laughter like the sunbeams fell 
Irradiant with light. 

Now she is gone beyond our sight 
To some more glorious shore, 
Yet music, moonlight, sun, and stars 
Speak of her evermore. 



August, 1912. 



[18] 



TWO SONGS FOR KATRINA TRASK 



TRIUNA ISLAND 

How lightly on Triuna's shores 

The laughing ripples run; 

How brave the sight of trees that fling 

Green banners to the sun. 

O sweet the song the waking bird 
From bosky thicket trills 
When the broad roseate wings of dawn 
Are spread above the hills. 

At evening in the tall tree-tops 
The fluttering breezes die, 
And half-forgotten visions flame 
Across the western sky. 

Here joy and sorrow side by side 
'Neath heaven's arch of blue 
By Love's dear touch are sanctified, — 
The poet's dream is true. 

September, 1910. 



[19] 



II 

YADDO 

Where, cried my heart, shall I find peace dwelling 
Nor ever yield to my flying quest? — 
Come, sang the pine and the rose of Yaddo, 
Here in the fulness of life is rest. 

June» 1915. 



[20] 



THE BROKEN BIRCH-TREE 

O silver sister birch-tree, 
So sad and woe-begone, 
Among such fair companions 
Dost find thyself alone, 
The joy of youth forgotten 
And beauty all unknown? 

Thy sisters circle round thee 

Graceful beyond compare. 

Their smooth limbs white as moonlight. 

And rippling breeze-kissed hair. 

How easy their forgetting 

Of anything less fair! 

But thou, poor broken birch-tree. 
Dear httle sister mine. 
Instead of perfect beauty 
One leaf -crowned bough is thine; 
At their more glorious fortune 
Let not thy heart repine! 

Behold, brave sister birch-tree. 
By dark misfortune tried. 
Thou wear'st a halo fairer 
Than crown of easy pride. 
In loveliness surpassing 
Beauty self-satisfied. 

[21] 



THE CHILDREN'S FRIEND 

She is dying, O my children, 
Seated in her rocking-chair; 
See, her tired hands are folded 
And her lips move slow in prayer. 

She is dying gently, surely. 
With a smile upon her face; 
Often thus she falls a-napping 
Waiting in this quiet place. 

At her knee her cat is purring; 
On the stove the kettle sings; 
She is dying as she wished it 
'Mid the old familiar things. 

Every day from school the children 
Hopped and skipped up to her door, 
CaUing for their favorite stories 
Seated round her on the floor. 

There were cookies from the cupboard. 
And when every one was good 
She would sing a quavering ditty 
Of lost children in the wood. 



[22] 



Now the room is full of neighbors, 
Kindly faces, ready hands; 
Bending o'er her, quietly waiting. 
See, the gray-haired doctor stands. 

At the door the children clustered 
Shake with silent, generous tears. 
While their wide eyes watch the working 
Of the solemn weight of years. 

Slowly while the clock is ticking 
Droops her head upon her breast, 
Falls; — 'mid friends and little children. 
Crowned with years she takes her rest. 



[23 



THE WELCOME SHIP 

TO GRENFELL OF THE LABRADOR 

Clear-eyed and fearless, full of quiet faith 
And love that seeks to meet a brother's need, 
Glad with the joy of service that palls not. 
And happy in adventure like a boy, 
Grenfell, disciple of the living Christ 
And lover of the sea, rejoicing steers 
His sturdy craft along a cheerless coast. 

4c 4t * :{: * 4: 

One glint of gold in the sullen west, and then 
The evening settles down with lowering clouds, 
The wind roars round the cape from the open 

sea 
With stinging sleet. Along the rock-strewn bay, 
Rough-hewn and weather-beaten like the rocks 
To which they cling, the clustered houses lean. 
In windows dim with rain the lamplight gleams; 
The evening meal is spread. One house alone 
Is unprepared and dark; the heavy air 
Seems heavier for the weight of a woman's sobs; 
And the harsh sound of troubled breathing hangs 
Above a tiny cot where helpless lies 
A big-limbed fisherman, his bronzed cheeks sunk. 
His eyes wide open, sightless, blurred with pain. 
Beside him burns the lamp, a Uttle spot 
Of faltering light amid the gloom. 

[24] 



Outside 
On the cliflF's edge a group of rough-clad men 
With troubled faces vainly watch for help. 
All they can see is trembUng flakes of spume 
Snatched by the angry wind, while steadily 
The black waves leap and break in dirty foam 
Along the black cliff's base. Hope fails; 'tis late; 
The storm grows more and more. They turn to 

face 
The brave man's horror of a helpless night; 
With hopeless steps they go; one lags behind 
For one last look. His keen eyes rove the sea; 
He pauses; whirls the rain-drops from his eyes, 
And looks again; then wheels: "The ship! The 

ship!" 
He shouts with eager quavering voice. 

Within 
The house the cry comes to the listening ears 
Faint but most joyous. — "Oh, thank God, thank 

God!" 
The woman sUps to her knees in grateful prayer. 
The sick man lifts his head, a flickering smile 
On his thin lips. ... A moment . . . then the 

sound 
Of eager voices and the tramp of boots; 
The bringers of good news come trooping back 
With kindly words of cheer. 



[25] 



And now across 
A tossing sea beyond the harbor bar, 
Out of the blinding fog and rain, and safe 
From gUttering icebergs and uncharted rocks. 
Fearlessly plunging on, they come ! they come ! 
The dauntless doctor and his dauntless crew, 
Gallant disciples of the Lord of Life. 



[26] 



SHE WALKS ABOVE THE SPRAY-FLECKED 

CLIFFS 

She walks above the spray -flecked cUffs 
In meadows sweet with flowers; 
Her eyes see something far away 
Beyond these fleeting hours. 

She steps with quiet, even pace 
Serene as her heart's beat, 
And often turns lest she should tread 
A flower beneath her feet. 

Each move of head or hand betrays 
A thought of gentleness, 
Each look she gives the wild sea-birds 
Is like a mute caress. 

The clutching waves beside her leap; — 
She has no doubt nor fear, 
Such deeps has she within herself 
And hopes so brave and dear; 

Such deeps has she all clear and still 
Beneath the reach of storms, 
The restless world must pass her by 
In wracks of cloud-made forms. 



[27] 



She walks alone, yet not alone. 
And waits so patiently; 
She knows not anything but love,- 
This mother soon to be. 



[28] 



A FRIEND 

Well ... I am tired of silly girls and all 

The doubtful folly of my talk with them. 

Now drooping lashes, now a hoyden look, 

Nothing to say but banter idle words; 

Either a bold familiarity 

Or else a dull and artificial pose — 

And always I more dull or bold than they — 

Till naught seems real and nothing worth the 

while. 
So I will go. I know the place to go. 
There she will be — this honest friend of mine. 
This quiet, deep-bosomed mother of four sons, 
Four romping, stalwart youngsters with keen eyes. 
In all their active and clean-bodied sports 
She takes an evident dehght; they run 
And jump before her, glad to feel her eyes 
Approvingly upon them, proud to see 
Her woman's interest in their games. 



[29] 



To her then I will go, and she will take 
My hand in friendliness and surely say 
Such things as I believe in but had lost 
Through too much loitering in a forward road; 
And we shall sit together at our ease 
In the sweet garden, and our talk will flow 
Like a strong river through the meadowland. 
Touching with life a world of gentle thoughts. 
To her I will speak truth, for she can look 
So evenly and straight into my eyes 
That falsehood dies before the lie is formed. 
She knows so much, yet is so glad and calm 
That I am lifted from my troubled self 
To see the world in purer, braver wise. 

Now let me turn away from all this sad 
Frivolity, for every manly chord 
Within me cries to speak and hear the truth 
And heed the honest pulse of Ufe. And I — • 
I know who sings: "Adventure with a quiet heart. 



»* 



[30 



ROMANCE 

The peace of the night-time 
Silently brooding 
Hangs o'er the forest 
In mystery shrouding 
All of its secrets. 

Only the moonbeams, 
Spectral and ghostlike. 
Peer through the branches 
Or glint on the wavelets 
Of the swift river. 

Now if you stand by the side of the rapids 
Hark, you will hear the murmur of voices 
Under the roar of the travelling waters 
Singing and calling and endlessly calling: 
'Tis only the sound of the bold rapids singing 
CaUing and wooing the mist maidens to them. 

Down where the curving river flows, 
Noiselessly slipping on its way. 
Close to the shore where the birch-trees lean, 
There the lithe mist maidens play. 

Smoothly they glide with an easy grace. 
Languidly swaying to and fro. 
Back and forth by the white birch-trees, 
Sweeping the waters' silent flow. 

[31] 



\ 



Over the calm of this whispering place 
Tiptoes the wind on the trees above 
Faint and far, oh, faint and far 
Trembles the rapids' song of love: . 

Mist maidens come to the hearts of your lovers. 
Why will you tarry and leave us despairing? 
Red glows the sunrise when morning awakens 
FilUng our hearts with the fierce joy of battle; 
Madly we spring in the thick of the tumult, 
Leaping and singing, in freedom exulting; 
Nothing can hinder the might of our onslaught. 
And ready we stand to defend you from danger. 

Then comes the sunset with banners and glory, 
Wearied with fighting, we seek you with longing; 
Slowly the stars blossom forth in the darkness 
And over the waters the pale moonbeams wander. 
Now comes a yearning our hearts cannot fathom. 
Softly we woo you with tenderest love-songs. 
Keep us not waiting then, hark to our wooing. 
Come to us, fair ones, O come to us quickly. 
Leave us not endlessly calling and calling. 

Aimlessly gliding here and there 
Idly the fair mist maidens play; 
Sweet to their hearts is the rapids' song 
Borne by the breeze from far away. 



[32] 



AS WHEN A LOVER OF THE FOREST 

STANDS 

As when a lover of the forest stands 

In silent wonder in a hidden dell, 

And hears the spring come bubbling from the 

sands. 
And yields his whole self to the magic spell 
Of beauties, jBlling heart and ear and eye. 
Yet knows not which he loves the most: the sight 
And smell of growing things, the ghmpse of sky. 
Or waters singing in the sunbeams' light: 

So stand I lost in wonder when thy face 

Across my fancy comes; nor can I say 

Which gentle virtue or unconscious grace 

Is dearer to my heart from day to day. 

Since all charms make in thee one perfect whole — 

The flower-like chalice of a maiden soul. 



[33] 



LOVE SEEKS A WORD 

O where are words for Love to tell 
The joys that Love has known? 
Think you to catch the wild-rose breath 
Through random meadows blown? 

Can even sweetest melody 

Express the nameless grace 

That haunts the faintest smile or tear 

On the Beloved's face? 

Shall art portray the spirit's life, 
O Love without disguise? 
Or paint the light of stars that speeds 
Long years to touch our eyes? 

So all that I can say. Sweetheart, 
Or all that I can do 
Are broken fragments of my love 
In every fibre true; 

This I can say: my being flows 
In every current free. 
Past ruined bridges full in flood 
Resistlessly to thee. 



[34] 



LOVE IS DEAD 

Hapless Love with broken wing, 
Little silent, lifeless thing. 
Ah ! how he could soar and sing, 
Long ago, so long ago. 

Lay him in the cool brown earth. 
Soon, so soon, death follows birth; 
Nevermore comes childlike mirth. 
Nevermore, ah, nevermore. 

Mocking world, you'll still go on 
Ev'n though light and life be flown, 
Dumb and hard as yon gray stone, 
Evermore, forevermore. 

Nothing matters from this day 
Now I've laid poor Love away. 
Unto dust and common clay 
He is gone, oh, he is gone. 

What avails it to be brave .^ 
Nothing now hath power to save, 
Bowed above the little grave 
Let me die, oh let me die. 



[35] 



SONG 

Out of the booming wind and wave 
Rise melodies vast and free. 
And music awakes in the tangled brakes 
And the shade of the forest tree. 

A lyric lurks in the sea-gull's swoop 

And the flower that blooms unseen, 

And the whole world sings as it wildly swings 

Where the headlong stars careen. 

But the song that thrilled me through and through 
Till the heart-beats caught my breath. 
Was a slender maid with eyes unafraid 
Who carolled of love and death. 



[36] 



BLUE 

Long have I loved to dream beside the blue waves 

flashing 
Overarched by azure skies in summer's perfect 

days; 
The frail bluebells that fringe the cliff with every 

breeze are swinging 
And caUing me to venture in the madcap fairies' 

ways. 

Heaven's gift to me is one blue star to share the 

night of longing 
And comfort me with silence though nor joy nor 

prayer remains; 
When thronging hopes beset my heart they sing 

like dauntless bluebirds 
Fluttering in early spring along the country lanes. 

And even though I muse amid the autumn's fad- 
ing splendors 

My heart is in the meadow with the gentians' 
heavenly hue; 

And to-day, as if to crown the long years of prep- 
aration. 

To-day I met my true love; — and O her eyes are 
blue ! 



[37] 



Ill 

SWORDS AND MEN 



BY THE SWORD 

So spring has come? Why should I care 

For that? Some fool may have my share 

Of sentiment and idle dreams. 

For me, I live in glory's beams 

Where men with steel-clad hearts of hate 

Give and take death as stem as fate. 

All Ufe is but a conflict; why 

Conceal it by a soft reply? 

Things should be changed? — Where is the force 

To turn men from their present course? 

Bring out your armies, fleets, and guns 

And prove it by your stalwart sons ! 

My joy IS in the battle-Une, 

The shock of warfare is divine: 

My all upon one stake I throw 

And leap heart-whole to meet the foe. 

Behold the transformed idlers come 

Made heroes by a snarling drum! 



[41] 



Why tell me of a thrush that sings? 

Why talk of streams and flowers? Such things 

Are nothing, playthings of a day 

That passes phantom-like away, 

The whimsies of an unknown Might 

That runs its course beyond our sight. 

Come, carve your own high destiny; 

From others snatch their victory; 

The iron heart shall oft prevail 

Where hearts of weaker stuflE must fail; 

And if you fall amid the strife? — 

Well, that's the end of every life. 

Love? 'Tis the will to have, — a game 

Of wits, through centuries the same; 

Perhaps your wants may both agree: 

That's chance; here is the certainty: 

Love diflFers thus alone from war, — 

She must live though you conquer her. 

Come hypocrites of aspect meek, 

Veiling your sin of being weak. 

Call out upon the brazen sky, 

'Tis I shall give you your reply, 

'Tis I that have the right divine, — 

Here is the choice: your death, — or mine! 



[42] 



So spoke he in the pride of youth and strength 
In foreign cafes, sipping painted drinks, 
His sword across his knees. 

A year passed by; 
He strode no more to his accustomed place 
With clanking spurs. Unmeaning bugles called. 
Slave of a blind necessity, he led 
His men to battle for a cause unknown, 
And, falling, poured the bitter tide of life 
Into the dark and thirsty dust of death. 



[43] 



THE WAR-MAKERS 

The men who march with sturdy step 
And singing hearts when bugles call. 
Who wait or charge with equal will. 
Triumphant even when they fall; 
Rightly or wrongly led, these stake 
Their lives to take their Country's part. 
And win the honest praise of all 
Who love a bold impulsive heart. 

And we believe in heaven above. 
Thou dost receive them, God of love! 

But these who skulk concocting wars, 
Or bluster safely far from pain. 
Who whine, for dividends' sweet sake. 
As things have been they must remain, 
Dare they reflect on that sure day, — 
These craven cumberers of the sod, — 
When they who once were naked babes. 
Return as glutted beasts to God? 

The air is full of restless ghosts, 

But Thine is vengeance. Lord of Hosts! 



44] 



REPRISALS 

In the House of Lords yesterday Lord Kitchener announced 
that our troops must be adequately protected from asphyxiating 
gases by the use of similar methods. 

— London Times, May 19, 1915. 

O England in this hour of trial 
When strident voices mount on high, 
Stand fast amid the troubled seas 
And let the fooUsh tumult die. 

Descend not to the baneful hate 
Of "like for like"; your destiny- 
Is far too great. Though you behold 
Your gallant sons in agony 

Yet stoop not to the murderer's means. 
Up, England ! strike with honest blows 
For Faith and Truth and Liberty, 
And leave dishonor to your foes. 

The patient heart that faces life. 
Learned in the lore of history, 
Has known the victor vanquished by 
The price he paid for victory. 

May 20, 1915. 



[45] 



TO THE PRESIDENT OF THE 
UNITED STATES 

FEBRUARY, 1916 

Heroic heart that dares to face the rage 
Of fierce impetuous word and headstrong will, 
Thou knowest that by patience of the sage 
Is won the truth that sets men's hearts a-thrill. 

Thou darest curb the hotspur, — cast aside 
The blandishments of those that seek for gain; 
The thwarted politicians may deride: 
Wrath, blandishments, and mockery are vain. 

Lo, thou dost stand beset, but not dismayed. 
While raucous voices stridently declaim; 
Thou gazest at the future unafraid, 
Heedless of threats and caring not for fame. 

In the world's night of death and wild surprise 
Though dust and smoke of conflict round thee 

roll. 
Yet canst thou read with sad prophetic eyes 
The glorious vision of thy nation's soul. 



46] 



IN TIME OF WAR 

"Nothing avails/* the scoffer cried, 
"In these wild days but self and lust.'* 
Drunken, he took his fill, and died. 
And crumbled into common dust. 

"Nothing abides," the Christian prayed, 
"Save Thee, O Christ, for aye the same." 
He did his duty unafraid, 
Passed on, and left a hero's name. 



[47] 



OXFORD REVISITED IN WAR-TIME 

Beneath fair Magdalen's storied towers 
I wander in a dream. 
And hear the mellow chimes float out 
O'er Cherwell's ice-bound stream. 

Throstle and blackbird stiflE with cold 
Hop on the frozen grass; 
Among the aged, upright oaks 
The dun deer slowly pass. 

The Chapel organ rolls and swells. 
And voices still praise God; 
But ah ! the thought of youthful friends 
Who lie beneath the sod. 

Now wounded men with gallant eyes 
Go hobbling down the street, 
And nurses from the hospital 
Speed by with tireless feet. 

The town is full of uniforms; 

And through the stormy sky. 

Frightening the rooks from the tallest trees, 

The aeroplanes roar by. 



[48] 



The older faces still are here 
More grave and true and kind, 
Ennobled by the steadfast toil 
Of patient heart and mind. 

And old-time friends are dearer grown 
To fill a double place: 
Unshaken faith makes glorious 
Each forward-looking face. 

Old Oxford's walls are gray and worn; 
She knows the truth of tears, 
But to-day she stands in her ancient pride 
Crowned with eternal years. 

Gone are her sons: yet her heart is glad 
In the glory of their youth. 
For she brought them forth to hve or die 
By freedom, justice, truth. 

Cold moonlight falls on silent towers; 
The young ghosts walk with the old; 
But Oxford dreams of the dawn of May, 
And her heart is free and bold. 

Magdalen College, January, 1917. 



[49] 



THE MEN OF OXFORD 

My heart is with the British, 
The gallant Oxford men, 
Who waste no idle rancor 
To weaken sword or pen. 

They will not talk heroics; 
Even fame may pass them by: 
It is their inborn nature 
For Britain's sake to die. 

They rise without a gesture 
To meet the blustering foe; 
Their words are few but solemn; 
A heart is in each blow. 

Beloved towers of Oxford 
In dreams before them rise; 
Once more from old Port Meadow 
The skylark takes the skies. 

The placid river windings 
Are ever in their sight; 
The dear gray walls of Oxford 
Surround their sleep at night. 



[50 



The ancient truth of beauty 
Which only youth may see 
Blooms in the sons of Oxford 
In grace and chivalry. 

Like lovers they court danger 
In the old Oxford style 
With look far off and fearless, 
On boyish lips a smile. 

They turn from home to duty 
And go without a sigh;— 
Christ fend the youth of Oxford 
Who sail abroad to die. 



[51] 



AMERICA TAKES HER PLACE 

Deluded by a life of easy calm, 
Lightly we judged injustice soon would cease; 
We hid the solemn truth, or found release 
In eyes made sightless with a soothing balm. 
Even youth forgot the laurel wreath and palm. 
Comforts replaced the virtues of Old Greece; 
Careless of righteousness we babbled "Peace!" 
Too dull to heed the Hebrew battle-psalm. 

But now the hour has struck; the issue stands 
Waiting decision; prophet and hero rise 
Facing the future with a glad surmise. 
Against a selfish tyrant's lawless bands 
Strengthen, O God, thy youngest warrior's hands, 
Who grasps the sword with justice in her eyes. 

London, America Day, April 20, 1917. 



[52] 



IV 
SEEKING AND DARING 



YOUTH IN AMERICA 

I ask no easy portion 

With tithes of love and gold; 

This brave world owes me nothing; — 

Nor shall, when Ufe grows cold. 

Let some adventure take me 

In this forward-looking land. 

For my heart is fain of the battle-strain 

And the sword leaps in my hand ! 



[55] 



THE POET'S VISION 

AH day the fields in silence lay- 
Beneath the mellow autumn sun, 
And from the groves of painted trees 
The leaves fell fluttering, one by one. 

Now on a hill the poet stood. 
And watched the sun sink slowly down 
Behind the hills, and touch with flame 
The windows of the distant town. 

He saw the ghostly wraiths of mist 
Rise from the meadows spread below; 
With thankful heart he saw the star 
That trembles in the sunset glow. 

Then all the world grew faint and far, 
As fades the shadow of a dream; 
Dim grew the fields, the hills, the town. 
And softly sang the meadow stream. 

And now before his vision passed 
A train of knights in bold array; 
Fair flashed their armor, red and gold. 
Touched by the darts of dying day. 



[56] 



In dreams he saw them wage their wars, 
He saw their deeds of skill and might, 
He saw them die for honor's sake, 
And overrule the wrong with right. 

"Great God!" he cried, and reached his hands 

Up to the heavens' wide expanse, 

"Why could I not have lived and died 

In those brave days with horse and lance?" 

"Why must I waste my life to-day; 
Be bom and love, perhaps, and die — 
Where are the gallant deeds that filled 
The noble days of years gone by?" 

The flame of passion blazed, then sank. 
Out of his dream the poet woke; 
He felt the night wind on his cheek. 
And in his heart a small voice spoke: 

"Old days are gone, but yet remains 
The hard-fought warfare of the Truth; 
Still more and more the world cries out 
For courage and the strength of youth; 

Only the idler stops to mourn 
The chances of the days gone by; — 
Your chance is now — the present time — 
Rise up. Sir Knight, and fight and die!" 

[57] 



AFTERWARD 

Heedless and thoughtless in our petty selves 
We live with senses dulled to nobler things; 
We see no kindness in a stern rebuke, 
Nor heed the wisdom in a warning given 
By those who know us. Still we seek to find 
Pleasure that only comes to whom it will — 
Till suddenly we wake as from a dream 
Before the dead face of our patient friend, 
And stand struck dumb with sorrow, faint with 

tears; 
Then goaded into action stumble forth 
Into the open air, and hesitate, — 
For mad with vain regrets we only see 
The darkened sunlight on the hateful grass 
And hear the tuneless grinding of an empty world. 



[58] 



SUMMER SLEEP 

When the summer moon hangs in the sky, 
And the soft wind pulses low, 
And the rushes that grow by the riverside 
Wave gently to and fro. 

In the mystic light of the moon's pale rays 
From realms of the stars on high, 
Wrapped in a veil of silver mist 
The Queen o' Dreams drifts by. 

To the country of dreams she bears me off 
Afar through the silent night. 
Drifting and drifting away and away 
Under the gray moonlight. 

But how I come back from that distant land 
Where reigns the Queen o' Dreams 
I know not; — only I know that here 
I wake in the sun's bright beams. 



[59] 



THE YOUNG SINGER 

O, how many songs will you make, my lad. 
And when will your task be done? 
/ have dreamed me a dream of the long^ brave years. 
And my task is just begun. 

And where will you find a theme, my lad. 
Since the world is no more young? 
While the man and the woman hope and seek 
There's always a song unsung. 



[60] 



THE WINDING ROAD 

There are many to sing us the doleful song 
Of the hearts that hang heavy with tears, 
But who will sing us the dauntless song — 
A marching measure that swings along — 
Of the heart that has no fears? 

The joy of life is the forward road 

To the heart that is ready to go; 

There's a laugh and a jest at the end of day, 

And a sweet voice calling from far away 

Whenever the wild winds blow. 

Though what we may see at the turn of the road 

Is hidden from you and from me. 

Yet with heart that is free of a vain disguise, 

And face to the front and fearless eyes. 

We will dare whatever we see. 



[61] 



LOVE OF LIFE 

Love you not the tall trees spreading wide their 
branches, 

CooUng with their green shade the sunny days of 
June; 

Love you not the little bird lost among the leaf- 
lets 

Dreamily repeating a quaint, brief tune? 

Is there not a joy in the waste windy places, 
Is there not a song by the long dusty way; 
Is there not a glory in the sudden hour of struggle, 
Is there not a peace in the long quiet day? 

Love you not the meadows with their deep lush 

grasses. 
Love you not the cloud-flocks noiseless in their 

flight. 
Love you not the cool breeze that runs to meet the 

sunrise. 
Love you not the stillness of the warm summer 

night? 



[62] 



Have you never wept with a grief that slowly 
passes, 

Have you never laughed when a joy goes running 
by, 

Know you not the peace of rest that follows la- 
bor ? — 

You have not learnt to live, then; how can you 
dare to die? 



[63] 



LAUGHTER AND TEARS 

When I no more as now can find 
A joy in little common things; 
When mirth which blesses humankind 
No laughing mantle o'er me flings: 
Veneered with mock solemnity. 
Then pity me, 
O pity me! 

When from my eyes no tears will flow. 

But all those tender springs are dead; 

When any tale of mortal woe 

Still leaves unbowed a haughty head: 

Aloof in self-complacency. 

Then pity me, 

O weep for me! 

When any cry of human wrong 
Shall fail to draw me from my path; 
Or evil fail to make me strong 
With impulse of a righteous wrath: 
Dead in my own sufficiency. 
Then pity me, 
O pity me! 



[64] 



But while I weep with unfeigned tears, 
Or mayhap laugh with simple mirth, 
And spend the talents of the years 
In love and labor on the earth: 
Then God is my security. 
Rejoice with me, 
O sing with me! 



[65] 



TEMPTATION AND THE VISIONARY 

I who have seen the vision of God, 
How shall I turn me back 
Out of this rugged upward trail 
Down to the well-trod track? 

Out of the gloom of hopeless nights 
Glory has filled mine eyes, 
How can I leave this starward path. 
Or turn my gaze from the skies? 

All through the hours of spirit-strife 
Stands Christ with his hand on mine. 
And his eyes on me; can I turn away 
At the cost of that love divine? 

Subtly they seek to draw me down — 

Desire and sloth with men — 

Shall I yield? Christ comes at desperate need: 

The vision ! The gleam, again ! 



[66] 



THE CROSS AND THE CROWN 

We that are young and troubled, 
We that are old and sad, 
We that are weary of conflict. 
We that are strong and glad, 
Drawn by the need of our spirits 
In sorrow and joy and strife. 
We come unto thee, Christ Jesus, 
Strong Saviour and Lord of Life. 

Out of success and failure. 
Weary of fear and fate. 
Sick of the dull lust of living 
Slaves to our doubt and hate. 
Turn we to thee, O Christ Jesus, 
And pray for a swift release 
From anguish and dread of sinning 
To freedom and light and peace. 

Thou hast known pain and sorrow. 

Tempted, despised, alone. 

Out of the wreck of earth's failures 

Raising a heavenly throne: 

Thine, we are thine, O Christ Jesus, 

Never from thee to depart; 

The cross and the crown forever 

Are fixed in each human heart. 



[67] 



A MINISTER LEARNS ABOUT LIFE 

So you have come to save me while I die 

Because you think I'm on the road to hell; 

What do you know of hell ? Because you're called 

A minister of God are you in charge 

Of hell? Listen! I tell you that I know 

Far more of hell than you and all your books. 

I've been there. You will never save my soul 

By fear. Think you I care for suffering? 

A little more or less with all this pain — 

What matters that? Although you're called the 

man 
Of God you are a fool; and worst of all 
A timid fool. I don't know what's the hell 
For that, but sure as God it does exist.— 
Why is your face so white? Are you afraid, 
Or only angry at me.^ — ^Yes, I'll stop 
And listen. Fix this pillow. — Now I'm quiet 
And you shall talk. . . . 



[68] 



Wait now; I want to ask 
Why do you speak of church and doctrines, heaven 
And hell? I cannot understand — ^perhaps 
Because my mind is weaker now. — Ah, well, 
I see you're disappointed; it's my fault; 
I've always been a blunderer since first 
I left my mother in her tears and made 
This mad attempt at living for myseK. 
But listen: this is what I need: Jesus! 
Tell me the things he did — You ought to know: 
Zaccheus — the publicans — the sheep he found. 
You needn't make the application; see. 
For one so near to death there is no need; 
Death does it for you. Tell me, is it true 
He loves, he saves .^ I've had so little love 
And such a need for love. And can you say 
How Jesus walked the hills of Galilee 
And taught and prayed and toiled and died for me 
Among weak friends and bitter enemies? 
Help me to see the blueness of the sky 
The redness of the lilies that he saw. 
Can you do that? . . . Does your theology 
Teach that? . . . Now I will close my eyes and 

watch 
The pictures that you make; and if the pain 
Is not too great you shall not know the time 
When I step out from this mysterious world. 



[69 



PROVIDENCE 

How many gentle deeds are done 
In this strange world through hidden laws 
Of which we only see the effect but cannot know 
the cause ! 

This little, nameless, laughing babe. 
Born out of sin and bitter wrong, 
Brings tears into his mother's eyes, — ^but to her 
heart a song. 

The wind 'mid stormy sunset clouds 
Has swept a crystal space of sky 
Where floats the cradled silvern moon, serenely 
small and high. 



[70] 



MIRACLES 

The age of miracles is past; no more 
Stand men in wonder on the lonely shore 
Gazing at glory; in unseeing eyes 
Lies buried childhood's rapture of surprise. 
How neatly we discover everything, — 
Except that human hearts were made to sing. 
Truth hath no beauty; genius is grown mad; 
And youth is weary, prematurely sad; 
Art sinks to seK-expression; faith is dead. 
The soul is governed by an empty head; 
Religion damned, the dismal science rules. 
And men are labelled from the various schools. 
Empty the goal for which the people strive, 
Beheving Ufe is but to be alive. 



[71] 



Waken deluded dreamers ! rise and see 

Spread out before you all eternity: 

The ancient oceans, everlasting hills, 

The quivering life that through all nature thrills; 

And over all, across the darkened sky, 

Behold the pageant of the stars wheel by. 

What do these speak of — ^paltry doubts and fears? 

Or hope and faith beyond poor human years? 

Is God then dead because we learn his laws 

And argue wisely of effect and cause? 

Must wonder fade that knowledge still may grow ? 

Are life and death no more than things to know ? — 

See how the hosts of idle doubters stand 

Abashed and troubled by the faithful band 

Of men who live or die for truth, nor find 

The universe enclosed in one small mind. 

There are no miracles? Does God not speak 
As in the olden days? Where will you seek 
For miracles to-day? Shall they be found 
Breaking the tedium of an endless round 
Of tea-cup gossip? Shall a prophet's joy 
Lighten the dark hours when all pleasures cloy? 
Between the dances of the vaudeville 
Shall angel visions set our hearts a-thrill? 
Or dare the young man consecrate to gold 
Hope to see God when he is growing old? 



[72 



Awake ! arise ! cast off the prison chain; 
Look on such poor existence with disdain; 
Cleave through the outward husk of things and 

take 
Life at the source; hew down the tangled brake 
That with a bitter growth of things, things, things, 
Stifles the poet-heart before it sings. 
And then, behold, set round with stars and seas. 
Old loves, new life, and all earth's harmonies, 
God's favorite miracle since time began: 
The fearless, prayerful, conquering soul of man. 



[73] 



THE MYSTERY 

Except ye become as little children. . . . 

I said: I will fight my way 
Through the riddle of history 
To the very heart of the mystery 
In the press of the thickest fray. 

I will join in the eager quest 

For the thing that a man desires; 

I w411 win my way through the blazing fires 

To the end of life's bitter jest. 

So I swung my sword on high, 
And I struck with a right good will; 
But the leaping blade could never still 
My spirit's secret cry. 

Smitten at last I fell 

In the thick of the whirling strife, 

And my spirit slid betwixt death and life 

To the trembling brink of hell. 

I woke in the flower-starred grass 
'Neath an arch of June blue sky; 
And I heard wild bird-songs drifting by 
And I felt cloud-shadows pass. 



[74] 



And a little lad ran up 

With a merry-serious face 

And thrust with a child's unmannered grace 

A dripping leaf-made cup. 

And when I had drunk he said: 

"If you like I could be your guide 

And walk with you by the quiet brook side 

Till the sun is gone to bed. 

There's many a thing to see!" 

He cried with glowing eyes, 

"And the best of all is a great surprise 

Called the heart of mystery." 

"You've seen it, my little lad.^" — 
"And I'll show it to you!" he cried, 
"If you'll only come where the violets hide 
And let your face be glad." 

"But how do I know you speak true.^ 

Little lad, I grow old in that quest. 

But not since a child has my heart found rest — 

Now who in the world are you?" 

He laughed: "I should think you would know," 

And paused. Then I heard with a start 

While the old joys surged through my trembling 

heart: 
"We were playmates long ago." 

[75] 



THE MASTER OF YOUTH 

Now Youth cries out for many things 
Not mentioned in the Creed; 
But Christ who walks the earth to-day 
Can answer every need. 

"I must be free to go," cries Youth, 
"Not heeding law nor sign." 
Christ says: "Thou shalt be free indeed 
When thou thyself art mine." 

Cries Youth: "The world within myself 
Is full of joy for me." 
Christ says: "To share thy brother's woe 
A purer joy shall be." 

Youth pleads: "I want so many things 
Before to-day speeds by." 
Says Christ (who died when he was young) 
"I give eternity." 



[76] 



THE LOST ISLAND 



IS 



THE LOST ISLAND 



The dim-eyed scholar bending over books 
In shadowy alcove of some College Hall 
Finds strange delight that stirs his patient mind 
In histories that mingle with old tales, 
Half fact, half dream, laboriously written down 
With all the detailed evidence of truth. 
In quiet libraries the old books stand 
Long row on row, musty and gray with time; 
And there by a dim winter's sun I read 
In massive tomes the words of ancient men: 
iElian, Strabo, and Timagenes, 
Plato and Diodorus Siculus. 
So mused I on the thoughts and deeds of men 
Across far centuries of time, as one 
Sojourning in a foreign land receives 
The common news from home and vaguely doubts 
Whether these things be real or not. Thus tranced 
In wondering dreams I read the fabled tale 
Of that great island in the western sea, 
Atlantis, some time swallowed by the waves; 
Then I remembered tales of other lands 
That disappeared beneath the roaring floods: 
How Lyonnesse in brave King Arthur's day 
With all its hundred towers and churches sank 
Into the abyss of ocean in a night; 
And how the Indian in the northern woods 
Crouching beside the embers of his fire, 

[79] 



Repeats the ancient legends of his race 



Of forefathers that came from some strange land 
Beyond the rising sun; and how wise men 
Sounding with plummet-Une the ocean depths 
Have found in mid-Atlantic a long ridge 
Dividing off the new world from the old: 
Above the dimness of the tide-swept deeps 
The pinnacles of this sunk mountain range 
Rise, crowned with green. Here flash the bright 

Azores, 
And here cluster the islands of Cape Verd; 
Southward Ascension and St. Helena 
And Tristan da Cunha keep a faithful watch 
Over lost ^splendors in the lonely sea. 

Hid in the darkness of unmeasured time 

Among the counsels of Eternal God 

Lies the beginning of the glorious isle 

Atlantis. On the lofty peaks of heaven 

Stood all the wondering angel host and saw 

Through the interminable crystal depths 

A sea-born emerald island lying girt 

With surf-fringed cincture of the sapphire sea. 

And now the isle was veiled in wreaths of mist 

That streamed and whirled among the mountain 

clefts, 
Then launched into the heaven and sailed away 
As on fair summer days ships pile aloft 
A mass of snowy canvas, lightly lean 
To take the breeze, and vanish in the blue. 

[80] 



And then the island lay clear to the sight, 
And glistening in the open sea; far north 
The patient glaciers worked, moulding the land 
With mighty fingers into mountain, peak. 
And valley, hill and dale. League after league 
Stretched the bright sparkling fields of virgin snow. 
The cUfiFs reverberated with the sound 
Of muffled thunder from the rattling floes: 
And past the rock-ribbed coast the tossing sea 
Swirled round the icebergs in green glittering waves. 

Far to the south white curving beaches lay 
Between tall windy headlands shining fair 
Above the sapphire sea; and drenched in foam 
The pebbled reaches glistened in the sun. 
Inland wide, grassy plains rolled into hills 
And in rich valleys stood the dark-leaved groves 
Of golden oranges, with here and there 
A treeless waste or dark morass; and now 
Long chains of mountains rose, range upon range, 
And over all was flung a shaggy robe 
Of tangled forest set with lakes like gems, — 
Blue, green, and crystal, touched with mystery 
Of imseen beauty. Tranquil and secure 
Lay Nature basking in untroubled dreams. 

On the East coast a sheltered harbor lay 
Wide open to the sun, and on the beach 
Blue sparkling wavelets lapped the dusky prows 
Of triremes. There the keen-eyed seamen stood 

[811 



Gazing far out to sea. With many a turn 

A white road mounted to the palace set 

Like a bright jewel above the reach of storms, 

Encircled by a grove of sheltering trees; 

And rising from hill-pastures far away 

Shone the steep mountains pinnacled with snow; 

Thence sprang a river glorying in its strength, 

And poured in many a smoking waterfall 

Down from the heights; then with a quiet song 

In long meander through green meadows flowed, 

And near the fruitful orchards sank and passed 

A whispering presence underground; then sprang 

Melodiously to meet the light once more 

In shaded gardens where the breathless air. 

Heavy with fragrance of fair flowers, rejoiced 

With cadence of clear waters and the song 

Of birds; even the city streets were loud 

With tinkling laughter of the running rills. 

Upon a pleasant hill-slope near the sea 

Where once at dawn the old stone circles caught 

The first red glow of sunrise, now there stood 

A rough and massive temple for the god. 

Fair gleamed the square-hewn columns near the 

flame 
That ever mounted from the altar-stone. 
And there the statue of the Sun-god towered. 
Wrought out of orichalcum, gold and jewels, 
And listened deafly to the peoples' prayers. 
Throughout the year at dawn the sunlight crept 

[82] 



Between the columns, and with shining hands 
Wakened the hghtnings of his jewelled eyes. 

Sometimes before the dappled sunrise touched 
The eastern sky or the bright stars had paled 
Into the blue, the harbor beach was thronged 
With men, and smoking torches flared aloft; . 
And now tall bearded captains shouted, slaves 
With straining arms and shoulders heaved long 

ropes 
And bore great heaps of oars and shields and spears; 
And so the bold adventurers toiled with hearts 
Full eager for the sight of unknown lands 
While the slow dawn came on. But when the sun 
Crowned the dark waves with flashing gold the 

smoke 
Of sacrifice in the hill temple rose 
Into the Sun-god's nostrils; from the shore 
A shout rose skyward, and the rowers took 
Their seats; the slaves plunged in the sea and 

leaned 
Against the ropes; slowly the triremes stirred. 
Then quivered at the sea's embrace, hung poised 
While warriors leapt aboard with gleaming shields 
And spears, and then launched out among the 

waves 
With a great foaming roar; the oarsmen bent 
Against the oars; the stout boats rose beset 
With spray and steered straight for the rising sun. 
Along the shore the white-haired mariners 

[83] 



Shielded their blear eyes from the glare and gazed 
And dreamed of former days; then turned and 

walked 
Along the sea-heights where they still could watch 
The giant breakers gather strength and leap 
In shattering cataracts on the rumbling cliffs. 
And ever and anon they turned and looked 
To the bright East even when the boats had passed 
Far from their sight, and they could only watch 
The surf roll on the reefs in long expanse 
Of slumberous foam out of the heaving blue. 
And so, with eyes that ever looked beyond. 
Dreaming long dreams through the long sunny 

hours. 
They waited in the pleasant grass, brave men, 
Whom age had robbed of force but not of heart. 

And here was peace and plenty, and all things 

That human hearts desire. Here life flowed on 

In ways most natural; men bought and sold 

The golden fruitage of the fertile land. 

And traded on the wealth of ocean foam 

In busy marts; the laborers tilled the soil 

With dumb content; ship captains trod their 

decks 
And watched for storms half heedless of the chants 
The toiling seamen raised; the warriors sought 
Adventure and a deathless crown of praise 
In unknown lands; the Emperor on his throne, 
Holding the reins of government, received 

[84] 



The tribute of a hundred vassal kings, 

And by short words and sharper looks obtained 

A fair report from messengers who came 

Out of the bustling cities, quiet towns, 

And from the scattered folk of hill and vale. 

And over all these various forms of life, 
Touching them now with heavenly hope and joy 
And utter tenderness, and now with fear 
And sudden gloom, reigned the strange paradox 
Of love and death. Here amid solemn state 
And pageant mummeries strode mocking Death 
And claimed his due; but lovers, hand in hand, 
Strolling the flowering fields and woods of May, 
Found all the world a Treasure-house of dreams 
And learned from everything to live and love. 



Over Atlantis fell a radiant light 
From the moon's silvered shield and countless host 
Of scintillating stars; the snow-crowned peaks 
Gleamed mistily; a waiting silence watched 
The sleep of man between midnight and dawn. 
Save where the wolf-pack in the wilderness 
Howled for their prey, or in the forest glen 
The lonely owl with plaintive quaver shrieked 
To his uncanny mate, while on the rocks 
The breakers fell with a dull, distant roar, 
And on the beaches little wavelets curled 
And lisped among the pebbles. 

[85] 



Then a breeze 
Came from the Libyan desert, stifling, hot. 
And yet most fragrant with the odorous breath 
Of those bright gardens of the Hesperides. 
But soon the breeze became a wind; the wind 
Blew to a gale; out of the darkness sprang 
Strange clouds; the surges thundered on the rocks; 
The shrunken moon fled wildly through black clouds 
Like one pursued, and all the stars were hid. 
With subterranean rumbling hills and plains 
Tossed as in pain, then trembling reeled aghast 
Amid the ruin. From the wind-lashed waves 
Huge peaks sprang up and gazed upon long leagues 
Of thunderous foam, — gazed and then sank again. 
Out of the wild uproar the earthquake wave 
Like a huge wall of darkness came, gathering 
Its strength; the moon broke through the clouds 

and cast 
A lurid light to mark the way for Death. 
Great cities lay in dust; some people fled 
For the high hills, here trudging on with stern. 
Inexorable faces, here unmoved. 
Oblivious, gazing at the moon, and there 
Huddled together, cowards, frightened folk. 
And heroes, helpless all. 

Prone on his face 
The statue of the shining Sun-god stretched 
His shattered length, insensate, mute; his head 
Heavy with metals and rich jewels lay 
'Mid fragments of the splintered marble floor. 

[86] 



Then once again the earthquake gripped the land 
And shook it; all the deep foundations failed, 
And suddenly the glorious island sank 
As an exhausted swimmer caught and drawn 
By unknown currents to the whirlpool's edge 
Swirls helplessly, and plunges out of sight. 

Atlantis lies beneath forgetful waves. 
Over her head the crested billows foam, 
And through her caverns heaves the slow ground- 
swell. 



[87] 



II 

Year after year in endless round has passed 
Across this ancient world since those far days, 
And we, the children of a moment, turn 
To that dim past, seeking to understand 
The truth and step from darkness into light 
And ease this aching wonder of our hearts. 
Often the world seems old beyond belief 
And all its restless woes press round the heart 
With strange insistent pain. O pleasant isle 
Atlantis ! thou art gone ! thy beauty lost 
In the wild terror of an anguished night, 
All sunk beneath the waves ! Where shall we rest 
In all this troubled world .^^ We stand and gaze 
In silent wonder at the stars, or feel 
The pleasant warmth of sunlight; still there comes 
The earthquake and the flood, and still we see 
The desolate ruins of old glories flung 
Like broken baubles in the lap of time. 
We come from unknown regions and we go 
Whither we cannot see. In this old world 
We move beset by ancient memories. 
Strange legends in the dust of cities dead. 
Great Spirit of the Universe, what things 
Have thy wise eyes beheld upon this earth ! 
Nations that fade like mists at sunrise; lands 
That rise from the deep hollows of the sea; 
Snow mountains sunk to green and fruitful vales; 
Cities that tower and fall again in dust; 

[88] 



And man, the traveller, wrapped in mystery. 

Thou sittest cowled in gray with patient hands 

Folded across the lap and head half-bowed 

Like some carved statue of Old Sorrow, dumb 

And full of unshed tears; across thy sight 

The laggard years float like great flocks of birds 

That pass the moon in flight from winter's storms. 

To thee the birth of warlike nation comes 

As quietly as the birth of helpless babe 

On our dim earth; and thou canst tell how far 

The countless number of the silent dead 

Outnumber all the living in the world. 

Great Spirit, teach us something of thy calm, 

The patience of Eternity, that sees 

With eyes unclouded, for we faint weary 

And sick with the dull lust of empty life. 

And we are tired of petty things and fain 

To think one noble thought. 

Round this old earth 
The tireless seasons wheel like flashing wings 
In swift pursuit around the dove-cote; still 
At Spring's brave miracle the woodland flowers 
With pale star faces rise from crusted mould 
Of last year's leaves; out of thick darkness creeps 
The dawn; the thrush, in English garden perched 
On a bare branch in mist of evening rain, 
Trembles for very ecstasy of song 
Long months before the Spring. 

[89] 



And we, too, look 
For coming good. At each new glimpse of Truth 
Recorded in the world of sense or grasped 
By sudden glory in the soul of man 
Our hearts rejoice, believing we shall see 
Some day the utter loveliness of Truth, 
Feeling Eternity about us, growth 
And progress working under death and change. 
Thus from the contemplation of the past. 
Wiser for living, and with greater hope. 
We turn to meet the future. As of old 
Glory is round about us, mystery 
Of high adventure; in our heritage 
There is no love of life nor hate of death 
Apart from freedom; faith hath won our hearts 
To live by courage, not security. 
Now lonely wave arise ! glistening and capped 
With trembling, wind-lashed foam, rear up thy 

height 
Above Atlantis. 'Mid the fading dreams 
That throng men's lives one vision will not die. 
One haunting loveliness enchants our eyes, — 
A dream of that glad day when every man 
Shall dare to lay aside the ancient sword, 
And Nature, like her lord, having outgrown 
The untamed ways of immaturity. 
Shall make her orbit in an outward calm. 
Graceful and strong with majesty controlled. 
Then, from this vision waking in the hush 
Of sweet reflection, often have I heard 

[90] 



Mystical minstrelsies, far off but clear, 

A heavenly harmony of present peace; 

And in the following breathless silence, hark ! 

Solemn and plain, the still, small voice of God. 



91] 



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